A Wandering Hero
by JubileeProductions
Summary: After the cruel kiss of sudden betrayal shatters Percy's heart, he leaves camp to get a hold of his bearings and to break free from his tether of grief that tugs wickedly, like a hook in flesh. But, as we all know Percy, he can't help but get into some sort of trouble along the road. Meanwhile, there is a newcomer at camp, with her lineage unknown. And the campers don't like it.
1. Chapter 1

**Ah, Pertemis. An unexpected yet rich ship. **

**WARNING – I do not know much of Greek Mythology other then what I study, so some villains and histories here will be fabricated due to my current ignorance. **

…

Dear friends,

When word got around camp that a new demigod, one who had taught a few rogue Cyclopes a lesson or two, I knew I'd like him.

Seeing that he was, in fact, a _she_, made me sheepish.

Dashing up the hillside to the crest, where Thalia's Pine Tree stood tall and proud, I spotted a girl ripping her bronze knife from the leg of a sobbing animalistic Cyclops. The girl looked stunned, eyes as blue as stark ice wide and shocked. She held the knife awkwardly (Annabeth would have given a full-blown lecture) and she was favoring her left leg. A few more demigods from the Hermes cabin were already there, shouting at and taunting the two other Cyclopes, who were getting so frustrated they swung their clubs around with no true precision. The earth thundered whenever a club would slam into the hillside, kicking up dirt and adding all the more fuel for the monsters' rage.

One Hermes camper, I recognized him as Jack Baker, rolled between one Cyclops' legs and drove his javelin upward point-first into the monster's gluteus maximus. Nobody seemed so concerned. Cyclopes were bumbling idiots who'd accept peanut butter _while_ trying to kill you, so no worrying about to campers. The only one to worry about was the new girl.

I shouted for Will Solace, standing right at my side, to cover me as I went in. The blond nodded, notching an arrow as I broke into a full sprint for the girl. I bellowed for her to duck. She looked my way, her jet-black hair cut short whipping as she spun to face me, and she dove for the grown just as a huge, crudely-made axe whistled through the air where her head had just been.

She stayed that way on the ground, the girl, with her hands over her head. I hit the dirt right next to her, grasping her shoulder.

"What's your name?" I shouted over the roars and yells of the battle.

The girl screamed and slapped at my hands. "Get off me!"

I rolled aside to avoid an intentionally aimed stomp from one of the Cyclopes. The beast growled, cracked yellow teeth showing in a hostile and hideous snarl, and bore down on me. I rolled back onto my feet and whipped out my weapon, Riptide. Holding his axe aloft, the Cyclops attacked. Whether this idiot knew it or not, I basically grew up slaying monsters. I was almost twenty, older than most demigods lived, so that would make me a dangerous card to play to begin with. I'm not bragging. Okay, maybe a little bit. But living as long as I did, along with you guys, I can't help but feel a little pride.

The Cyclops swung his axe and I leaned back, pulling a limbo move and watching as the axe passed over me. If the weapon had been made of steel or iron and not jagged stone, I would have seen my reflection. The Cyclops reached forward, attempting to grab me. Riptide caught the light of the blazing afternoon sun as she severed his hand from his body. A roar of agony and rage ensued, and I rolled back again to avoid a wild swing of the axe. An arrow caught the Cyclops in the eye, burying deep. He stood rigid for a moment, took a few staggering steps back, one forward, and then toppled over with a moan.

"Did you _see _that?!" I heard Will shout, "_Please _tell me somebody saw that!"

One Cyclops remained. One out of the three must have wounded a camper because now the Aphrodite cabin were wailing on the poor beast with all they got. I was about to turn my back on them, surely a bunch of well-trained campers could down a single rogue Cyclops, but a move caught me off-guard, making me hesitate.

The Cyclops viciously back-handed a few Aphrodite campers, sending them flying and screaming as he barreled through his opening. Headed directly for the new girl. She was standing now, blue eyes wide, mouth agape as he charged. Apollo campers shouted, arrows pierced his shoulders and back and even a high heeled _shoe _smacked against the side of his head, but the wrathful monster was still boring down upon the girl.

I hurled Riptide.

The blade flashed through the air, past the Cyclops, and was caught in the palm of the demigod girl. She looked as surprised as I felt relieved. She did have some battle instincts in her after all. The girl sidestepped a wild haymaker and with perfect formation, perfect strength, thrusted the blade upward into the monster's chest, directly through his heart.

I saw Riptide's gleaming tip sprout through the Cyclops' back. It was the like the world was holding its breath. Nobody spoke. All jaws simply dropped, and I just grinned like a madman, glad to see Riptide being used properly as well as the new girl unharmed.

The campers erupted in cheers as the Cyclops began to crumble into dust, carried away by the wind. The girl just stood there, her large eyes appraising my majestic sword in awe. And our eyes met. Wordlessly, as I approached, she bent to retrieve her celestial bronze knife from the grass. She gingerly held out my sword in her shaking hand and I retrieved it gratefully.

"My name's Lindsey," She said wearily as the other campers approached. She met my gaze, "Lindsey Jones."

Lindsey and I quickly became friends.

She had rapidly recovered from her battle shock as I, along with Will Solace and Malcom from the Athena Cabin, took her to the infirmary. There she was patched up by our best, and Lindsey simply couldn't stop staring around her in a daze. I had recognized the look on her face, the look of a kid who had been lost all her life and finally, at long last, reached home. I had felt the same way when I first arrived at Camp Half Blood.

Her story wasn't so different from many other campers'. She spent her life with a single father and his sister. They lived on a farm in West Virginia, raising sheep and tending to an orchard of peaches. She told me her story in private, Lindsey obviously didn't feel comfortable in a large crowd. She described her life with a wistfully sad smile. Homeschooled, raised on a farm with not so many worries other than the nagging question of where had her mother run off to…

The fiery demons had crawled from fissures in the earth. Without going into so much detail, Lindsey told me the events that transpired when her father and aunt died. Mr. Jones had gone down fighting with a celestial bronze knife, the very one his daughter now carried, and brought two demons down with him to his grave. Lindsey never told me what happened to her aunt.

I could picture it, the burning orchard and the screamed bleats of sheep, running through an unnatural inferno, desperate to escape. Desperate to live.

Lindsey had retired for the night after her story, leaving me to ponder my own thoughts.

…

I sit on the beach. Four months. Four months had passed since Lindsey's arrival to camp. Six months since Annabeth had left for her quest.

I had wanted to go with her to retrieve Artemis' stolen chariot. Stealing the Moon Goddess' chariot was pretty much like stealing the moon, and I couldn't imagine how the mortals would react with the absence of the moon in the sky, or lack thereof. Maybe the mist would pull a big one, but we can't fully rely on the mysterious force that veils supernatural and mythological activity from mortal eyes.

Annabeth had been the first to raise her hand. I had stood as well, surprised that my girlfriend wanted to go on this quest. We had plans for college in New Rome, you see, and this quest would certainly put a delay in our schedule. But if it was a quest she wanted, I was all for it. So you can't blame me for gaping like a total idiot once she said she wanted to do it alone. We had been a couple for two and a half years, been through Tartarus together, and she wanted to take this quest _alone_? After much protesting and forcing about a few hundred promises on her return, I ultimately let Annabeth depart, albeit reluctantly. She meant the world to me. Strong, beautiful Annabeth, with those storm-grey eyes that always seemed to calculate. Plus, she was an amazing kisser.

The first few days I Iris messaged her every evening. Every time she had been sitting beside a temporary camp fire, deep in thought. She almost seemed troubled at times. I seriously hoped nothing was wrong, something we should've been working out together.

Piper, I had noticed your confused frowns when you'd look at me. you would whisper something to Jason, who would look in my direction with a concerned expression. That day we sparred, demonstrating to the younger campers footwork and mixed techniques of both Roman and Greek.

"Has anything been going on with you two, man?" Jason had question, striking for my undefended flank.

"Huh?" I feigned ignorance and spun from his strike. I followed with a slash.

"You know what I mean, Percy," The Son of Jupiter gave me 'the look' from behind his glasses and executed a spinning kick, knocking aside my sword. (Yes, Jason, you have a look)

I sighed, "I dunno. She's just been so distant lately," our swords met with a clang.

"Don't blame her, she's hundreds of miles away,"

Oh, Jason, just to let ya know, that wasn't funny.

I snorted and focused on the fight. Jason's battle technique was practical, sturdy, yet predictable. Mine, however, was more flashy, wild, and erratic, albeit less practical, yet no less deadly.

I wasn't kidding when I told Jason was she had been distant, both spiritually and physically. She seemed distracted whenever I'd call, and she'd been quick to end our talks, always rushing to some random conclusion.

"His legs!" I heard Lindsey shout. I couldn't tell who she was screaming to, so I turned my head.

Before I could apprehend the inevitable, my legs had been swept out from under me. As the air raced from my lungs, I stared up at the blue sky in stupefied silence. I tried to rise but was met with the point of Jason's gladius to my forehead.

"Gods, Percy," He looked as surprised as everybody in the arena, "You're out of it."

I grimaced and grasped my friend's offered hand, allowing him to hoist me to my feet as the campers clapped and hooted. I dusted off my shirt and grinned crookedly at Jason.

"That wasn't a Roman move,"

"Hey, you Greeks may be sloppy, but that doesn't necessarily make you lazy." He shrugged grudgingly.

Turned to glare, not fully angry, yet slightly annoyed nonetheless, at Lindsey. She was leaning against a smoking brazier that was cooking some sausages for the hungry, hotdog bun in hand.

"What was that for?" I capped Riptide, the sword receding back into a ballpoint pen.

"You were dazing in the dead middle of a heated sword fight," Lindsey cracked sasmirk and plopped a sausage into her bun, "That's showing off."

I crossed my arms and rose a brow, "So you gave my enemy advice?"

Lindsey shrugged noncommittally and took a ravaging bite, "To you it would seem," she said aft swallowing a mouthful of sloppy glory.

She made a face and snatched some mustard from a stand beside the brazier. I sighed and uncrossed my arms, letting my shoulders relax as my eyes carried over the field of training demigods. Jason was now leading an effort of javelin hurling. Coach Hedge shouted in the faces of new campers as they struggled with their pushups, calling the poor kids cupcakes and hosing them down with a, eh, hose.

His young son, Chuck, sat upon the back of one of the 13 year-old demigods rodeo-style, repeating his father's rather colorful insults in tiny squeaks.

"Live it up, _cupcakes_," Coach Hedge hollered through his megaphone.

"Wive it up, qwupqwakes!" Chuck squeaked, he pounded his tiny fist against his current victim's skull, making the poor kid whimper.

I smiled. This... This was _peace_. No prophesies to threaten those you hold dear, no army of vengeful monsters seeking their next meal, and no oppressing lord of some ancient evil yearning to block out the sun. Monsters still littered the world, we demigods would never be free of hold encounters, but no major threat seemed to darken the horizon.

At first, campers had thought Lindsey's arrival a bad omen. It had been the most exiting since the dark days. However, given a few weeks, Camp half Blood warmed up to the demigoddess. I had shared my doubts as well. She looked eerily familiar, but I simply couldn't place where I had seen the likeliness of her appearance. She obviously took after her godly parent.

The girl had an appealing sense of fashion that would make any Aphrodite girl approve, yet refrain from making the Ares cabin choke. She kept her hair cut chin-length and I never saw her without her sapphire-bejeweled choker. Lindsey showed skill in combat, not so with a knife but undeniably in swordsmanship. She was a natural. So natural, I fear that she might best _me _one day. And her growing skill with a Bo staff was unparalleled. Mainly because few other campers favored the Bo staff.

"Hotdog?" Lindsey held the naked treat toward me. I examined it, shrugged, and accepted the hotdog.

I took a bite.

And an explosion of silver light blinded the day. My sword was in my hand before I knew to think, as well as the most seasoned of warriors in the training arena.

A young woman stood in the very center of the training grounds, arms crossed with one foot tapping. Her hair was auburn and pulled back into a practical braid that fell over one shoulder, her silver eyes like shining moons, and her pale skin complimented by her huntress outfit.

"I swear," She hissed through clenched teeth, "If my gods blasted father hadn't _insisted _that a quest for my chariot would be 'healthy' for the mortal god-spawns, _I _would have found it already."

Everybody hastily went to their knees. Except Coach Hedge. Dear oblivious Coach Hedge who never really gets a hint.

"Who the Hades are you?!" He shouted through his megaphone, making me cringe and Artemis turn toward him.

"Silence would do you wise, satyr."

"Silence? HAH, you're on of 'em Shakespearians aren't you?" He rose his megaphone back to his mouth and bellowed, "Well lemme tell ya what you should do with your – THE PIG SAYS OINK – and then stuff it in your – THE COW GOES MOO – And WHAT THE HADES IS WRONG WITH MY-,"

A silver arrow skewered the tampered megaphone in Coach Hedge's hands. Artemis whirled around, the bow already fding in her hand, and faced Jason, who was just beginning to rise from his knees.

"You, male, are you in charge here?" The impatience was evident in the goddess' face.

Jason straightened his back. I had long since stood, along with most of the braver and more ignorant demigods. Lindsey hastily swallowed her hotdog and hissed.

"Is that who I think it is?"

I nodded, recapping Riptide.

"She's beautiful," Lindsey said, still whispering as Artemis addressed Jason, who was doing his best _not _to look like a sweaty, sooty and dirty demigod and more like a dignified leader. I got to admit, you did your job well.

And I nodded in agreement to Lindsey's words, and it wasn't until I realized that I had been nodding more to myself then to Lindsey that she gave me a sidelong glance, eyes conniving. I felt an involuntary chill. Had I really just agreed to that? Artemis was an immortal goddess who despised males more than anything. Hades, if a guy so much as _looked_ at her the wrong way, he'd find himself turned into a weasel. I'm surprised she hadn't done more to Coach Hedge. Maybe satyrs were an exception?

And I thought this woman, this immortal goddess of the hunt and the moon, beautiful. And she truly was, but could I afford to think that way while I still had Annabeth?

"Annabeth hasn't found the chariot yet?" Jason looked surprised.

"When I first heard that a girl would be seeking out my stolen chariot, I dare say I had hopes," Artemis snarled, causing Jason to narrow his eyes rather than flinch. "I should have sent one of my huntresses after it," Artemis muttered.

"Are you questioning our fidelity, Lady Artemis, or out dexterity?" Chiron trotted into the arena, dressed in a fine suit from the waist up.

Chiron looked dressed for an official meeting of some sort, then it occurred to me that he still had to keep up his appearance as a business man managing fields of strawberries. Though I still didn't think why the suit was a necessary look for a gardener.

"Chiron," Artemis turned to face him, "Finally, a respectable male. I want you to call off this quest of yours."

Chiron bowed his head in greeting, coming to a stop beside me. Hesitantly, the demigods got back to training. Coach Hedge shouted less, and I didn't miss his forlorn glances at the forsaken pile of sparking plastic and wires that was once his beloved – though already broken – megaphone. I still stood there, a bit awkward as the two immortals began to talk.

"Why?" Chiron brushed a bit of dirt from the shoulder of his suit, "Have you definite evidence of Ms. Chase's failure?"

"Her 'failure', Chiron, is that for four months the moon has been missing from the sky, and the dimwitted mortals are just beginning to notice. What do you think will follow after they finally see that _my chariot _no longer journeys over the nightly heavens?" Artemis seethed.

Her silver eyes turned to me, and she faltered. "Perseus," She almost breathed. He stared at me for a moment, her face slightly distant. Artemis snapped back to attention as I cleared my throat.

"It has been a while, Lady Artemis," I said. The last time we had truly traded words was after I held the sky for her, when Zoe Nightshade died and adjoined the heavens.

She had changed. Artemis looked older, of course she looked older – she wasn't in her 12 year-old form. Now she was adopting the aged look of a young woman in her early twenties. I could tell she was trying to find the white streak in my hair, but over the years, the scar of bearing the sky had dulled to a muted grey. Which didn't stand out so much as it used to in contrast to my raven-black hair.

"I assure you, Lady Artemis, that our demigod will have the chariot soon enough." Chiron said, both aligning the conversation back on-subject and regaining the goddess' attention.

"Speaking of your demigod…" Artemis crossed her arms and rose a slender brow, "Do you know where she is?"

Chiron hesitated. "Not for certain… No definite location, no."

"I never completely trusted my reliability in the god-spawns," Artemis said, "So, naturally, I had my lieutenant follow the girl."

I blinked. "Thalia?"

"That's right," Artemis mused, "I forgot you two are friends."

Thalia and I never really saw eye-to-eye. Schist, I think we bicker more than agree, but I love that huntress to pieces.

"And what has come of it?" Chiron asked wearily. He seemed to know the answer before Artemis even spoke.

"Booked a flight for England," Artemis uncrossed her arms, looking smug. "Now, seeing that your own has abandoned the quest – for I highly doubt that whoever took my chariot would dare to _leave _western civilization – I am fully in my rights to track down my own chariot."

I was having trouble comprehending these words. I stood there, numb as a snowman, staring incredulously at the goddess. Chiron closed his eyes and shook his head. He looked to me, sympathy evident in his expression.

"I don't believe you," I said. I met Artemis' eyes, "She wouldn't do that._ I know _Annabeth, she would _never _abandon a quest. She would never abandon… _me._"

"Males," Artemis snorted, "Always thinking for yourselves."

Annabeth… gone? The possibility was so utterly illogical that I simply could not picture it in my mind. Annabeth gone. We had been a steady couple for years, we had cried together, nearly died together, laughed together, and danced together. Annabeth gone. We had gone through _so much, _was it probable for her leaving? Annabeth gone.

She can't be.

"Tell me you're lying," I stepped toward Artemis. I felt something begin to stir deep within myself, like a storm breathing dangerous life into the sky. "_Tell me you're lying,_" I took another step closer. I failed to notice the storm clouds brewing. My eyes were on Artemis.

"_I'm begging you." _I hissed these last words through clenched teeth. Thunder pealed over the gathering storm clouds, responding to my anguish of utter loss.

Artemis gazed over at me with her beautiful silver eyes, as if weighing a response. She didn't look so sympathetic, just a bit aggrieved. Whether it was my disrespect or my heartsick torment I didn't know. She turned to Chiron and spoke more softly.

"I will return in a day. I will allow one other demigod to be chosen for the quest for integrity's sake. Don't disappoint me." She flashed away in a shower of silver stars.

It began to rain.

Some campers began to complain, giving Jason sharp glares, who shrugged his innocence. The weather wasn't spontaneous in camp, Zeus' power over the weather protected the camp from unwelcome rainfalls. Mud gathered around my combat boots as I just stood there in the rain. Chiron withdrew to the Director's Cabin, and soon the campers, ignoring Coach Hedge's and Little Chuck's roared (and squeaked) protests, ran off to take shelter in their cabins as well.

Lindsey stood at my side a while longer, a hand on my shoulder, but even she left. I was completely dry. As Son of the Stormbringer, I had never summoned a storm before. At least not a full-scape deluge like this. However, I remained immobile, staring blankly at the ground.

Annabeth was gone. She had left for England. _Why?_

_Have you ever thought of leaving your life of monsters and quests behind, Percy? _She had once asked. We were sitting on a beach that evening, she had been leaning her head on my shoulder, my arm around her waist,

_Leaving this behind? _ I had laughed, _That would mean leaving_ you_ behind, Wise Girl._

_Leaving me behind… _Annabeth had whispered. She had sounded a bit uneasy, and I had been about to ask her what was the matter, until she snuggled a bit closer to me. We hadn't spoken the rest of that evening, just enjoying each other's company.

So here I sit now, upon the very spot where that question had been asked. The beach is calmly rolling along the shores and I'm grateful for the soothing sound they make. I write this in ink, for it seems that nothing laid upon paper cannot be trusted. I'll be leaving, my friends. But I must say that I'm not leaving because of you guys, you should know that. I just need some breathing room… some time on my own to… I dunno. Find myself, I guess? That sounds stupid.

I think I'll head west, over the country. Don't worry about me, guys. I can take care of myself, you know that more than anybody. I might pay New Rome a visit, take college there. Say hi to Frank and Hazel, haven't seen those two in ages. Hades, I might stop by Hylla and the Amazons, see if I can get a free deal on some sweet gadgets.

The thing is I'm leaving, I'm freeing myself from the tether of dread that tied me to grief.

I don't expect to return soon.

Without regrets and with much love,

_P.J._

…

**For those who failed to put the pieces together, yes, what Percy wrote was a goodbye letter xD I don't think that any future chapters will contain First Person narrative.**

**So, eh… what say you? Shall I continue? More information will come, and perhaps hints of Lindsey's godly parentage. Who is she? Why does she look familiar?**

**And how the heck am I going to turn this into a pertemis fic? **

**Well, stay tuned for more legends, monsters, and battles! :D**

TheWildFiles


	2. Lindsey - I'm Made a Queen

**Hello people. Sorry for taking so long to update. I hadn't originally planned on it, as I was entirely occupied with my other fanfiction "Exiled Prince"**

**This chapter is under Lindsey's point-of-view, and I daresay, I had quite a bit of fun writing this, though it took months to complete all together. **

**So sit back and enjoy! **

**Oh, by the way, just if you're wondering, _Kitty _is what Lindsey named her journal. Her journal, Kitty, has been her friend in her years of isolation in the country, and found comfort writing out her feelings in her depths. **

...

Hey Kitty.

I can't English. I literally can't, my gods-forsaken dyslexia makes sure of that. Have you, dear journal, ever tried to read a news ad and the letters look like some alien script? Either that or the dude who wrote that news ad was drunk as a Dionysus kid. Who knew I was fluent in Greek, huh? I didn't until I found this place, Camp Half Blood.

Camp was a dream come true until Percy left. The jerk. A part of me wants to hate him, while another part supports him. Eheheh, look at that. I have two personalities. Maybe I should call myself Two Face.

That is a terrible idea, I really want to erase that last part. But the eraser is in the next bunk over, under Hanna Boon's pillow. And unlike my bunk mates, I'm no thief.

The Hermes cabin is crowded. Seriously, that God of Thieves should take a break. I never liked sleeping in the same room with two dozen other boys and girls. They're all roughly my age, a few a bit older in their later teens. I barely get any time to write in you, this is the first breather I got since arriving at this camp. It's been awesome, though. Weapons training, crafts and arts, acrobatics, alchemy, and a variety of plenty other activities fill up my day time. At night… I'm just too exhausted to do anything but bury my face in my marshmallow pillow and pass out.

All the games, the contests, the training, and the physical exercises makes my time here simply glorious. I just wish I liked the people just the same. For some deranged reason, most campers see me as an outsider, a dangerous and dark omen. The camp's Oracle keeps on giving me this weirded-out and partly disturbed glance, as though I was singing with my mouth full. Which I wasn't, mind you. Homeschoolers aren't_ that _weird. At least I'm not.

All of this, the looks, the whispers, the faces, they all got worse once Percy left. Words simply can't explain how much I despise the girl that abandoned him. And I don't even _know _Annabeth Chase. All I know is that she is the reason why the only person that really accepted me into camp left for gods-know-where. And through his absence, life at camp became hard. And sometimes I wish that I was back in my room, in a house in the middle of nowhere, with no social life whatsoever, reading my books and tending to the orchard. With a dad, before he was dragged to hell.

So, up to current events, I won King of the Hill.

Winning doesn't come naturally to me. I was just as shocked as most of the campers were ticked. King of the Hill had been anticipated all summer long, before even I came into the picture. Over the winter and spring, all year-round campers and friendly spirits had helped with the construction of Leo's Folly. And I must say, they've done a fantastic job. The hill is a massive mound of packed dirt and gravel, riddled with pits, traps, and obstacles. The area of the hill itself must be around 2 to 3 acres all together, and it's about two times the height of a proud oak tree. When you think about it, that mound is one spanking huge hill.

But what really captured my definite interest was the scarlet flag that billowed in the wind at the crest of Leo's Folly. That flag crowned me the Queen of the Hill, and finally earned me some grudging, if not reluctant, respect.

Jason Grace, coach of Weapons Training, volunteered as the King of the Hill's referee. The rules were simple: No killing, no maiming, no attacking the referee, and no affiliation with other campers. They should add 'no breaking the rules' to send more of a clear message to the brick heads at this camp. These rules were pasted plainly in sight beside the path that leads to Leo's Folly. Any campers who failed to follow the most serious of rules will be sentenced to a week of dish-washer duty. Which sounds like a blast.

On the day of the long anticipated game, camp was full of rushed activity. All other programs were put on hold, and teenage demigods worked hard in the training grounds. Those who weren't participating assembled bleachers around Leo's Folly, like some outdoor gymnasium. The satyrs were dashing around with their goat legs (I still can't get over that), setting up stands where they'd sell healthy hand food to the enthusiastic viewers. Around fifty demigods assigned themselves as participants for King of the Hill, including myself. This game would be my first _real_ competition. Other teenagers who could fight like professionals. The injuries I'd most likely get would be real. The aggression from other campers would be real. And the hundreds of other demigods watching, cheering, screaming, and cheerleading would be _real_.

I stood in the middle of the chaotic preparations, eyes on the mound that just might mean my death. Leo's Folly was located in a once secluded spot in the woods, but nicely asked naiads reluctantly obliged to move their trees and rocks for a spot large enough to fit an enormous mound that reached far over the trees. More of the woods gave away to widen the clearing into a massive field, and from there satyrs and demigods alike had toiled to trim the wild grass and to carve a path from the main camp to Leo's Folly. The fawns just loitered, charming their way into getting free donuts or just lounging with the daisies.

But I ignored all of this, all of the activity around me, and kept my eyes on the scarlet flag.

"You okay there, Jones?"

Jason Grace jogged over to my side. He was taller than me, so if I were to face him, I'd get a mouth full of hard-packed pecs any teenage guy would dream for, and any teenage girl would drool over. Thankfully, the Son of Jupiter wore his cobalt camp shirt. The fact that Jason Grace was seriously the son of the king of gods should intimidate me. But Jason really doesn't give off the air of a terrifying and furious prince. He's more of a flying, talking lion. With glasses.

"I'm fine," Uncrossing my arms, I took a step back and offered an easygoing smirk, "Just strategizing, I guess."

"I really can't picture a strategy for this game," Jason looked up at the mound, "The game looks like it might turn into something incredibly crazy."

My response to this was an amused snort. A shout incited me to turn with Jason to see Piper Mclean and Michael Kahale jog over. All I knew about Mclean and Kahale was that they sort of shared the same godly parent, just from slightly different cultures. Makes complete sense. Only gives me half a head ache.

"Pipes?" Jason uncrossed his arms, "What's up?"

"Hose's freaking out." Piper said with a straight face I wouldn't have been able to manage.

Jason blinked, "Excuse me?"

Michael, a towering, Hawaiian, football-majoring Roman prince of some sort pointed across the clearing where two satyrs and a Demeter camper wrestled frantically with a writhing magical hose, spewing from its mouth a pressured spray of water that soaked campers left and right.

Jason sighed, "Where's Percy when you need him…"

Nodding to Michael Kahale, the two demigods dashed for the mayhem. I watched, fascinated, as Michael snatched the head of the hose with viper speed, biceps tensing as he wrestled with the wild tool. I turned my back on the action, only to come face to face (sort of) with Piper Mclean. Why does everybody have to be taller than me? The head of the Aphrodite cabin furrowed her brow, eyes confused and slightly distant.

"Haven't I seen you before?"

Somehow, she managed to sound like she was talking to herself, rather than me. "Um… I live here." I said, trying to moisten the dryness in my attitude, "Lindsey Jones, Daughter of Gods-Know-Who."

"Oh, sorry," Piper offered an apologetic grin, "On both accounts. I just-… I could've sworn…" Absently, her fingertips brushed the hilt of her long, lethal-looking knife strapped to her thigh.

I took a moment to assess Piper Mclean's attire. She wore a cobalt shirt with golden letters inscribed over the chest, saying _Iunictio_, which means 'Union' in Latin. She had rolled up her khaki shorts a bit, and leather knee paddings and shin guards were strapped there, including elbow guards.

"You in the game?" I looked back up at her.

Piper had her brown hair gathered into two twin braids that fell over her shoulders, stylishly entwining around a few owl feathers. No makeup masked her tan face, and her kaleidoscope eyes were radiant.

"Yep," Piper nodded, still half way to the moon. "Looks fun, and fresh. I can't tell you how many times I've played Capture the Flag. It gets old after a while."

A part of me was elated. For once, somebody other than Percy wasn't treating me like an alien. The other part of me, a whisper in some dark, secluded corner of my mind, was cautious. Wary.

"I've never played Capture the Flag." I said. My eyes returned to the scarlet Crown Flag at the crest of Leo's Folly. "Do you know why the hill's named-,"

"-_Leo's_ Folly?" Piper finished. She sighed. It was wistful and sad, but in a content way, somehow. "I know, not much of a Greek or Roman name, huh?" Piper glanced down at me, "You don't listen much too camp stories, do you?"

I shrugged, "I'm just there for the food."

The Cherokee demigoddess laughed and, after sobering up, adopted a softer mood. "Leo's Folly…" She breathed, "Leo's Folly is named after the stupidity of my moronic, crazy, and…" she faltered, biting her lip, "Leo was our friend."

"Oh," I murmured. I get it, now. It was named after a hero who had passed on.

"He saved us all," Piper drew in a deep, chest-filled breath, and let it out slowly. "I'll see you on the battle hill." She nudged my shoulder in such a friendly, warm way I couldn't help but smile. I almost forgot we'd be enemies on the hill.

Words like "I'm sorry" and "I'm _so _sorry" really didn't seem to cut it, you know? I know what it's like to lose someone that means the world to you, that you care about unspeakably. And those two typical catch phrases are near meaningless. You hear those words so much that they lose meaning entirely… and you're left guessing that nobody else really knows what you've gone through.

…How did this get so depressing?

The Artemis Hunters, or the Hunters of Artemis, or the Huntresses of Artemis since they're all _female _came around noon. They were acting all superior, all high and mighty, and I felt a twinge of disdain toward them as their leader turned an unsuspecting male into a ferret. He had been hard at work nailing a sign in the ground that would list King of the Hill's participants. Large slabs bearing all fifty names lay in a wide heap. That guy had a lot of work to do.

So he just stopped, hearing the announcement horn, and paused to glance over at the huntresses. With a scowl, Artemis snapped her fingers and _pop. _The poor guy was a scampering, saddened ferret.

The word 'Bully' entered my head. I knew as well as anybody that Artemis hated males, but had an unnecessary amount of derision toward them. Sexist. Only _some _(or most) guys are messed up. I doubt that kid (I didn't recognize his parentage) deserved to be morphed into a ferret just for looking at them.

I set down the Bo staff I was cleaning upon my personal equipment table (every participant had one, encircling the mound) and made my way over to the cowering ferret, ignoring the huntresses.

"Hey, kid – or mammal – ehheh," I chuckled at my own awkwardness and crouched down a ways from the ferret-demigod to get it's – his – attention. God, this was weird. Did he still have a human brain? The ferret regarded me for a moment, checked to see if the huntresses had passed by, and popped back into a human boy.

"I'm fine," he said, rubbing his neck, "She wasn't paying much attention to her spell, lucky me." He smiled, showing prominent incisors that gave him a wolfish look about him.

I looked the boy over. He wore the cobalt blue shirt of the united camps, as few other demigods do, and he was way taller than me, like most average-sized people. His face, his smile, was boyish. I judged he would somewhere around… 15, 16? Not entirely sure. His body certainly hadn't matured just yet, but he carried himself with a maturity most other campers lacked. A decent posture, shortish – yet wild – chestnut hair, pale face, lightly freckled, and large hazel eyes. He didn't stand out from the crowd that much. Maybe the fact that he was smiling at me caught my interest. Not many people did that toward me here.

He shuffled uncomfortable from one foot to the other, and it was then that I realized "_Oh God! I'm staring_" then "_Oh God, whatdoIdo_?" to, this time actually aloud, "My name's Lindsey."

The guy rose a brow, glanced over my shoulder, presumably at the huntresses, and bent over to grab a slab of word, about a yard long. He regarded the name for an instant, smirked, then flipped the face of the wooden slab back around so that I could see the name.

"So like this?"

Across the length of the board, written in white, careless strokes of paint, was my name. I nodded wordlessly, scratching the back of my head. There was a hoot of joy in the distance. I turned to see a son of… Hermes? No, Apollo. I saw an Apollo's kid charge the demonic hose, which was being ridden by the massive Michael Kahale like a bucking bull, and sliced it in half with a short sword. The hose immediately froze, falling to the ground with a dying hiss. Water pooled about it like blood as Michael Kahale picked himself back up, clapping the heaving Apollo kid on the shoulder. The kid couldn't have been older than 11 or 12.

I heard the guy next to me snickering. "That was only the beginning, my rival."

I nearly doubled over, "Y'mean you did that?"

"Yep," he held out a hand, "Coalt Markley, by the way," there was a disturbing glint in his eyes, "Son of Magic."

"Riiiight," I noticed the emerald ring on his finger. Huh, I wonder if that was some sort magical whatsit that shot fireballs or something. I've seen Hecate kids fight. They can be a nightmare in battle, making their swords phase through yours, creating illusion doubles of themselves, turning you into pigs. I mean, it never happened to me, but I've seen plenty of Hecate children victims. Luckily, their existence as pigs only lasted a few minutes. They were masters of trickery, bending the Mist in their favor, laughing all the while. I saw that Coalt was no different.

"What do you have against Kahale?"

"It's just a game we're playing," Coalt shrugged. He bent over to retrieve a slab of wood bearing a name and slid it into place across the face of the billboard he just erected. "And the game everybody's waiting for is about to start."

And so it was.

Apparently, a few of the huntresses decided the join without warning. Was it like they had to _prove _their superiority? I mean, I've never seen them fight, but their achievements were often in the Olympic Eye, the weekly news magazine that announced groundbreaking records in monster slaying and other phenomenal achievements. Not the mention the latest Olympian gossip, which I entirely ignored. I didn't care about model nymphs, or who slapped who. It was like the same crap you see in the line to the cashier in Walmart.

All participants lined up in a massive circle around the foot of the mount, side-by-side. I saw Jason take off into the air with a megaphone in his hands. He spun in the air and held it to his mouth.

"You guys ready for some bruising?" The voice carried over the entire clearing. The following roar of approval was sheer deafening. I had to cover my ears – it was like a wild concert! The bleachers were so full, they had to drag up compact stadium chairs for even more campers to come and watch. There were even nymphs, dryads, and the occasional centaur watching! I wouldn't be surprised if the gods were watching as well.

My heart skipped a bit as the announcer, an upbeat satyr or fawn (honestly, what's the difference other than reputation?) spoke into a mic, the surrounding speakers floating fifty feet in the air. I looked up to inspect these speakers, and found something of greater interest. Speechless, I took a step back to get a better view.

Way above the mount were screens, slightly see-through, like holograms. They rotated around the perimeter of the mound, though way above, and the each screen kept flickering, as though the camera men were testing their equipment.

I had wondered if I would appear on one of those big screens, and my heartbeat evolved into a wild drum solo.

"Focus on other things, Lindsey," I told myself, trying to keep my voice from shuddering.

And I did so, turning to face the girl at my left. She was a huntress of Artemis, paying me no attention, with long auburn hair gathered into a single French braid like the goddess herself. She was average-sized, pretty, with an athletic figure. I found myself paying more heed to her figure than anything other, and I tore my gaze way.

_Don't make it gay, Lindsey. _

The guy at my left was jumping on one foot to the other and hooting like a maniac. He certainly couldn't wait to get started. He held a battle axe, and he caught me looking at him.

"Like what you see?" He grinned with crooked malice, and I cringed.

"As if." I couldn't help myself. He smelt like… like… rotten eggs? I couldn't quite place it – it was just rottenly fetid.

"Eh? Maybe you don't hafta see yourself," he flexed his massive biceps, twirling his battle axe, and it was then that I recognized him.

Bruno, son of Mars, Roman god of war (I think that was it) had a reputation, and his rep became all he cared for. I've seen him fight in the arena. Sometimes, he would get outta hand and resort to breaking bones. The only guys that could beat him were Percy and Jason, with their superior sword skills. I wondered if Bruno even bothered to blunt his weapon. With a battle axe that size, he could lop heads off with ease… did this guy _have _to be right next to me?

"Don't pay much attention to him," the voice came to me over the thousands of roaring cheers, and I turned to face the huntress. She smiled sweetly, and I fought the irrational urge to smile back. She truly was beautiful, even with her teeth slightly crooked, and those protruding incisors that reminded me of Coalt. Some strands of auburn hair was lose, and drifted in banana curls around her face. Her eyes were a forest green, her face smoothly pale and freckle-less.

She was saying something. Her pillow-y lips were moving when I hadn't realized it, I was caught with her looking at me expectantly.

"Yuh-huh?" I said intelligently.

She laughed. It was a brief, pure sound, and she repeated herself, "Think too much about a greater enemy and it swiftly becomes your greatest nightmare. Lady Artemis taught me that."

"Yuh," I murmured, "Yuh-huh… *ahem* Yes, sounds great. Thanks."

She nodded and went back to examining the mound. Before I had much time to think about what I just felt, the announcer began the count down in his radio-happy voice.

"10, 9, 8…"

I inhaled shakily, and let the breath leave me calmly, slowly. I held a Bo Staff in my hands, without the bronze studding for monsters. A safe yet effective weapon. The crowd began to count along.

"7, 6, 5…"

Bruno started counting along, and before long everybody in the line was counting. I joined his, my heart a monsoon of beats.

"4, 3, 2…"

"I'm screwed," I very nearly whimpered.

"_One!_"

I sprawled on the ground just as Bruno's axe hurtled overhead in an attempt to behead me. I scrambled to my feet, and the back of my Bo staff swung around as I ran forward to collide into the back of his knees, forcing the massive guy to topple backwards with the force of my swing. The trek up the mound began.

I spotted other demigods attempting to take the stone steps that allowed an easier passage, but the triggering of pressure plates sounded with a click and hiss. They came rolling back down the hill with arrows in their shoulders and butts. I doubted they were real arrows.

I myself dug my combat boots into the gravel and dirt of Leo's Folly and trudged upward. Maybe Leo's spirit would favor me or something. I stumbled to a halt just as I came upon a pit, empty. It was nothing more than a man-made cooking pot for the sun to roast. I half expected there to be spikes or snakes at the end. A battle cry sounded behind me, and I spun to catch the glimpse of a charging camper with a shield on one arm and a hatchet in the other. With the crazed look in his eyes, I wondered if he was thinking clearly. Probably not. All I did was sidestep his clumsy attack. I didn't even have to trip him. The kid just flew right into the pit head first. I cringed at the following clanking sound of his armor. The whole crowd reeled back with a sympathetic "Oooooh!"

I looked up, and saw that I was on one of the big screens. The screen promptly flickered, showing another kid. Bruno. He was in the current process of smashing two campers' heads together. That guy was brutal.

I continued my trek upwards toward the scarlet flag at the crest. Most other campers were locked in mortal combat. I glimpsed Piper spinning as she faced two other campers, working together to take her down. They were tactically edging her toward a fiery wall. Ouch. Not cool. Wasn't affiliation forbidden?

I wanted to help, but, ehhh, ya see… Affiliation forbidden. Eheheh.

Piper was armed with a long knife in one hand and a wicked, jagged sword that seemed to be made out of ice in the other. Just as I was guessing that it was enchanted, sure enough, she spun to tap one of her assailants on the cheek, and he was promptly frozen in a thin sheet of ice. She kicked the other guy in the groin, and he went rolling down the hill and into a pit. Piper caught my glance and smiled, her face stunning even whilst covered in soot with a cut.

Jason came descending from the heavens like superman or Jesus, and held her chin in his strong fingers to examine her cut. It was bleeding. He murmured something, his face concerned. Piper shrugged, but I could see the blush even through her soot. Jason really was a sweet guy. Leaving a kiss on her forehead before thousands of viewers, he lifted off into the sky and shouted into the megaphone.

"Brandon Cortez disbanded for maiming! Sharp-edged weapons are forbidden!"

The action around the couple hadn't stopped. I realized I was nowhere near the head of the winning effort. I picked up my pace, hamstrings burning, my heartbeat storming in response to all this action. I was wary for any pressure plates or pits, or walls that would pop out of the ground and fall on you. I remember wondering why the environment was allowed to maim you – kill you, even – if other campers couldn't.

I stepped around another pit, pausing to grimace down at the mess at the bottom, and continued my way upwards. In arrow passed by my shoulder, slicing the material of my shirt. I glanced back and spotted a huntress stringing another arrow, eyes on her prey: me.

Oh God.

I proceeded to step backwards, eyes on her and her arrow. The girl pulled back her arrow, and at the last instant I sprung to the side just as the projectile hurtled at me.

"Hah!" I couldn't help myself. Who else would guess I could dodge an _arrow? _

Before I realized that the arrow had traveled through the air slower than usual, I felt something hard and blunt slam pitilessly against my back. I yelped, toppling forth onto the gravel and dirt, and continued to roll back down the hill. I caught myself, digging my fingers into the dirt.

_Ow. _

A tracking arrow. Shoulda known.

Smirking, the huntress strung yet another arrow. I briefly saw my life flash before my eyes. This is the end. I squeezed my eyes shut. But the screaming cry of a banshee made me open them again to see two campers sharing a gladiator's net charge the huntress. They were both yelling their mad battle cry, like banshees, and the girl tersely spun to face them and strung another arrow, for all the good that'll do.

The two demigods ensnared the huntress in their net, and she flopped on the ground all entangled, shouting and cursing. A minority of the crowd saw this and laughed at the prospect as the huntress was rolled into a nearby pit. Lady Artemis must've been furious to see this.

I jumped as the two campers looked up and pointed at me, and I saw that they were identical. Most likely brothers. The Stoll Brothers. I began running up the mound with renewed enthusiasm.

What followed was a blur. I can't remember that well. For the next half our, I had around 3 encounters with other demigods, all of which I was saved by either the environment or their own clumsiness.

Before much time has passed, there were roughly fifteen to twenty players left, and I was proud to realize I was amongst them. Half Time was called, and cloud spirits drifted about to pass around glistening water bottles.

I gratefully retrieved one from a smiling spirit, and paused to glance the label. "Trident's Freshness."

Trident, Poseidon's immortal son, was smiling up at me. I rolled my eyes and uncapped the lid, sloshing down the water. I half-expected it to be salty or whatever. Thankfully, it wasn't. I gazed out over the crowd, and then comprehended how bone-shakenly high I was. If I trip or fell now, I'd be tumbling down hundreds of feet to the bottom of Leo's Folly. The crowd was abuzz, and I smiled at the thought of the demigods placing bets.

A small fleet of Apollo campers, master healers riding on the backs of Pegasi, swept down from above to greet us. They went about to check for wounds, and one camper began tending to Piper's nasty gash. She cringed mildly as the blonde Apollo girl dabbed a wet cloth around the wound to wipe away the soot and blood. It was barely a maim, but maybe it was the fact that Brandon Cortez had swung his sword toward Piper's _face _that could have set her boyfriend the Super Ref off. Attempt to murder.

"Not that bad," she muttered, "Bite." She held a cookie-sized piece of ambrosia to Piper's lips. Piper obediently bit, chewed, and swallowed. The wound gradually began to close.

"The time, Theo?" The Apollo girl called. A boy heading my way answered absently, "Forty past noon. We got a couple."

It's been forty minutes? Huh. Time flies when you're risking your neck.

The boy held my jaw, and I recoiled suddenly, "Hey now, watch it."

The boy rose a brow. He was the usual gorgeous Apollo kid, with his blonde hair and bold, golden eyes. "Fine, not much of a toucher. Take this." He handed me a cloth, and I wiped my own face with it, cringing as I came into contact with a nasty bruise on my forehead.

"This, too." The Apollo boy held out a piece of ambrosia, "You looked good out there, by the way."

I felt my cheeks burn softly. "Thanks," I said. I wasn't used to complimentary comments. Biting a piece of the ambrosia and swallowing, the taste of my aunt's pumpkin pie filled my mouth, and I closed my eyes to savor the taste. All my sore joints, along with the bruise, diminished. With a grateful sigh, I opened my eyes to see that the boy was gone, saddling up on his Pegasus. The other healers did the same, leaving a bunch of rejuvenated participants in their wake.

My eyes caught the huntress I met before the race. She was standing, arms crossed, a ways from the group, eyes gazing up at the flag. She wasn't cut or bruised, and I imagined that she wasn't touched this entire game. Before I was caught staring, I took my gaze from her and down the length of the mound. Here and there, ledges dug into the side of the mound to grant sturdy platforms so that you aren't always trekking on a slant. Winding pathways of stone slabs proved useful steps, albeit perilous.

Huh. I wonder if Leo would be proud.

The ref blew his whistle. I briefly caught a glimpse of Jason Grace orbiting around the mound with a pair of binoculars in his hands. So he's got an eagles-eye-view, I see. Wish I could fly, lucky punk.

"There's been a change of plans!" Jason shouted from his megaphone over the demigods.

Confused rippled through the crowds. Even the participants shuffled their feet.

"Whadduya mean, eh?" Bruno waved his axe at the floating blond superman with bad eyesight.

"At this point, there _may _be affiliations up to two team members! Players, pick your partners!"

My heart promptly sank. I was the least renowned of all demigods, practically hated among our ranks. Who would-

"Aaaannnd," Jason continued, "We've got an extra player who hasn't yet given up!"

All participants looked up. Anybody who was out was either too exhausted or too hammered to continue. I've never heard such pride in Jason's voice as his figure suddenly banked low and out of sight as he plunged into a distant pit. And exploded out, soaring into the sky, his arms locked around the chest of a furious, scrawny… was that guy even human? Well, as humans demigods get?

The crowd roared their excitement, exploding from the stands and waving their arms, their flags, their shirts… they were so freaking excited, and it made me wonder if this guy might be some mutilated form of Percy. But he wasn't.

The announcing Fawn (It sure was a fawn) spoke. You could tell even by his voice that he was grinning, "Give it up for _Nico di Angelo!"_

Nico di Angel-who?

The boy was dropped in a dusty heap at my feet, spitting and cursing Jason's guts. And I just stood there with my arms crossed. Nico scrambled to his feet, coughing out some dirt, and – I kid you not – _took _the bottle from my hand and started chugging it down. The crowd was too excited to notice or care. I wanted to step over and give him a piece of my mind… however, I felt that if I did, I might surely see the end of my days. He was older than me, maybe 16 or 17. He wore the popular cobalt shirt that read _Iunictio _in fancy golden letters, and he was in black baggy jeans despite the hot summer weather.

"Hey," I said sharply, "Ya mind?"

He must've just realized he'd taken ahold of somebody else's property. His eyes drifted from the bottle to me, then back to the bottle. This continued on for a moment before he wiped his lips and shrugged.

"Sorry."

"Like a 'sorry' might gimme back my water," I rolled my eyes.

A satyr with wings came floating by and bonked the both of us atop our heads with his wooden clubs.

"Automatic team!"

"Hey!" I shouted this time, stomping my way over to the little goat-lagged angel.

"What gives?" Nico rubbed his head.

The flying Satyr gestured over the other participants. "Everybody else chose teams. You two were the remaining couple."

"Couple?" Nico rose a brow. "No thanks."

"I'm gay." We both said in unison, and looked at each other in shock.

The satyr didn't hear. He was gone.

"Frankly speaking," I added stumbling over my words. I couldn't believe I was admitting this a total stranger. "I'm bi."

"Eh, same," Nico shrugged, "And you are?"

He wasn't being friendly. But he wasn't being outright rude, either. An improvement, by my standards.

"Lindsey Jones," I said. I held out my hand.

He observed my hand warily, before he cautiously took it and shook. His grip was stronger than his scrawny fingers let on. "You obviously don't know who I am," he met my gaze, "nobody really cares much for the Ghost King."

The Ghost King… this guy had some sort of an ego floating about his swollen head. Maybe I could pop it. "Everybody else seems to differ."

"Eh," he waved his hand dismissively, "They think I'm some sort of a hero."

"And you don't?"

"Hey, wouldja look at that," he looked beyond my shoulder, "Looks like half in almost over."

It didn't fly by my head that he had obvious discomfort on the subject. Maybe I could use that as a fire poker for future reference.

The game was indeed about to start again. Everybody else had finished adjusting their gear. Bruno was teamed with a little girl, glancing nervously at the towering brute beside her, who seemed ticked he was burdened with a 12 year-old. He probably thought he could do all this on his own. He probably could. Piper was with one of the Stoll's, I didn't know their distinctive names. His other brother must've been taken out. And he looked deeply ticked by the notion, and was dividing a handful of glowing frag grenades with his Aphrodite partner. The huntress girl, the one who had spoken to me at the beginning of the game, was teamed with a terrified son of Hypnos. I recognized him as Max Rudolf, a short, thin boy my age who had been glad to help me with arrow fletching. He seems handy with any crafting, and I wondered (with brinking panic) what he was doing here… and what he hoped to accomplish. He told me he had a _heart condition_! How could be allowed to play?!

I relayed this to Nico in fierce hisses, and he set his jaw reproachfully. "Ambitious little Max," he grunted, "Idiotic little Max." He added under his breath.

And so we were off.

Nico fought like a savage animal. I was astonished by his demonic efforts, and took a step back as he single-handedly disabled a whole _team_. He had pounced them just as the game began again. Grabbing one kid by the hair, he kneed another guy in the groin, who had doubled over, wheezing. Then he locked his other victim in a headlock, and it seemed that he might be strangling the poor kid. He pushed fruitlessly at Nico's shockingly strong arms, struggling hopelessly. Just as I was about to intervene to reprimand Nico's violent efforts, the boy slumped his arms. Oh my God… was he… _dead?_

"What the _Hades_, Nico?" I stomped over and was just about to swing my Bo staff against his head, but he looked up then stepped backwards, raising both hands shoulder-level.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa, hold your horses there," he waved his arms. "He's just unconscious."

The other kid was still wheezing. "I think something popped," he gasped.

"Way to play rough," I scowled at Nico.

"I'll get you," the wheezing boy wheezed, "I'll get you and make it look like a bloody accident!"

It was Nico's turn to scowl. Before I knew what was happening, faster than even Percy could move, the wheezing demigod's face was rudely introduced to the end of Nico's black boots. He reeled back, holding his nose. "Shut your trap," Nico snapped.

"_Di Angelo,_" I grabbed his collar and pulled him back from the cowering demigod, "You should be _disqualified!" _

"We're falling behind, Jones," he slipped from my grasp. His voice was cold.

"First tell me what the _Hades _was that!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you." Nico fell back. I gasped, eyes widening and leapt ahead to try and catch him, before rational thought kicked in, telling me to _let _the jerk fall. But he was gone, falling back into his own shadow, vanishing from view.

My opinion of that guy stooped nearly down to Bruno's level. I had never seen somebody fight so predatorily. Shoving those troubling thought deep down somewhere, I trudged further upward. It was only fifty yards up to the crest. I could clearly make out the symbol on the face of the flag, a golden Greek Omega.

As I neared I realized that, with my height, I wouldn't be able to reach the stupid flag. Crap. I'd hafta climb. Fantastic.

And it was then that I beheld the two demigods clashing a furious battle just below the flag. Piper Mclean and the huntress were fighting, an ice sword meeting the knives that the huntress wielded. They seemed to be evenly matched, Piper's practical, practiced stance and tactics similar to Jason's. Of course, he must be training her! The huntress was something else entirely. She boasted superior acrobatics, dodging more than deflecting that terrifying sword.

The little girl had been completely abandoned by Bruno (no surprise there) and was just standing there, shaking with fear as she was entirely surrounded by two other teams. Mercifully, one boy just knocked the sword out of her hand and said something I couldn't hear from here. She girl nodded shakily and rose both her hands.

"Amelia Rose surrenders!" Came the announcer's voice. The was a rush of wind and Jason swooped down, lifting the red-faced girl in his arms and taking her down to the bleachers, where her friends came to greet and congratulate her for getting so far.

The other players were already out of the game. Courtesy to Bruno, the raging bulldozer. Before long, all who were left were me, Bruno, Max, Piper, that Stoll guy, the huntress, and I guess Nico. I haven't seen him since he melted into his own shadow.

Then Bruno was charging little Max. Well crap. Wildly, I waved my arms, shouting "Look out! Max!"

Max turned, and I saw that he had been crying. His drying tears had left clean trails down his dirt-matted face. He was looking at me in a state of confusing. Was he wrong in the head too?! Then he saw Bruno. Yelping, he fumbled for his spear. Bruno didn't stop, he was going to kill that kid! Swinging his battle axe yelled his triumph madly.

Nico sprung from the ground (he been laying there?) and slashed something that looked like a lengthy extension of oily blackness. The head of Bruno's axe bit into the surface of Leo's Folly. I was close enough to hear, my legs hadn't stopped. But I was smiling.

"You aren't fit to fight, what're doing here?" The scorn in Nico's voice was evident, and Max flinched.

"I-I… I thought I could-."

"Well you can't, you nearly got yourself _killed_, Max."

"Sorry, Nico." He answered, ashamed of himself.

Hold on – did they _know _each other? Max had never mentioned his – erm, _interesting _– friend.

"Max," I gasped, out of breath, "Thought you were… thought you were done for…" I heaved for breath, hands on my knees.  
"Lindsey?" He stared, "You're alive?"

"I know right," I grinned, rubbing my sooty cheek, "Surprised myself."

"Thank me later," Nico intervened our reunion and pointed with, now that I could see it clearly, an obsidian-black sword.

Stoll was out, and he had taken the huntress with him. He had tackled, from what fans told me later, the huntress, knocking her away. However, knowing that he was no match a warrior for the girl, he detonated the grenade from his hand, arms locked around her, activating an explosive sleeping spell and siabling them both.

This left Piper to reach for the flag.

Wait, where was Bruno?

Two thick, heavily muscled arms encircled my torso and I was wrenched from the ground with frightening strength.

Nico and Max shouted, "Lindsey!" In a confusing mix of fear and rage.

"What?" I had no idea what was going on. All rational thought had gone as I was hurled into the air. And there was suddenly fifty feet below, growing speedily nearer.

The audience screamed.

I distantly recalled a pinpoint moment in my childhood, where I had gazed out of my window all lonely like, and watching the doves coo on the clothes line that was out for drying. One by one they had taken off, giving me no heed. As every other child, I wondered how amazing a feeling it would be if you could _fly. _

I told myself quite frankly that this wasn't flying. This was falling, and I was going die.

And then I wasn't. I wasn't falling, I was _floating. _I was slowly rotating in the air as if I was in a pool tube, and the water I was in was churning in circles. I bobbed in the air, the wind whipping at my hair and ruffling my clothes, and I was slowly drifting downwards.

"I got you." I was Jason. MAN, I felt like I could kiss that guy!

I was set back down next to Nico and a very relieved-looking Max. Bruno was at it was Piper, wielding Max's spear, which he had dropped. And it looked like he was going to overcome her. I cringed as the spear pole met her ribs, resounding a cracking sound, and she was sent spinning down the hill.

"Bruno! Stand down! You are disbanded from the game for attempted murder!"

"The fall wouldn't've killed her!" Snarled Bruno, and he reached up for the flag. Nico vanished, only to pop out of the flagpole's shadow and full out tackle Bruno's massive form. They both bit the dust. There was a wild struggle in the dust, and it ended with Nico on top, his lip and nose bleeding, his knee on Bruno's throat. He pressed ruthlessly.

"_You're the one who freaking shoved me head first into a pit!" _Spittle mingled with blood flew from his snarls as Bruno struggled. Nico pressed harder.

But Bruno was the superior in strength. He threw Nico off of him, stood, and grabbed the scrawny Ghost King by the ankle. He was swung around like a doll and, sickeningly, he head slammed against the flagpole.

Was Bruno insane?!

I got my answer as he turned to face us. His eyes were burning scarlet. The angry, wicked glow reminded me of those ten dollars my dead dad owed me. I shook my head. Why would I care? How _could _I care? It was then that I knew what this was.

The Gift of Ares.

_That's _why Nico seemed so livid! He was under the influence of Bruno's magic. As was I, mildly speaking. Bruno was grinning crazily, his teeth jagged and bloody. _Di immortales_… Nico had gotten him _good. _I haven't even seen that punch land.

"Back off," he snarled. Blood was dripping down his chin and onto his chin. All four screens way above Leo's Folly showed Bruno as he reached up to take the flag.

The crowd began booing. Their collected voices adjoined in their disdain for the son of Mars, and so the guy waved his arms. "What?!" he challenged, "What's the matter, eh?"

A stone struck his temple.

Everybody slooooooooowly turned to see the caster of the stone. There Max stood, holding in his trembling fist a leather slingshot he must have tucked away in his back pocket.

"Y-…" he swallowed, "Y-… Y-You don't deserve that."

I cursed Max's foolishness. Who cared about the reward? This guy needed to be put down like professionals. I looked for Jason, who might be said professional, but he was nowhere to be seen. Of course! He'd gone to see if Piper was okay. Leaving me and an unconscious Nico, and a Max who was too brave for his own heart.

"Well, well. If it ain't Rudolf, the stuttering w-w-wonder," Bruno cackled his cruelness, spinning Max's spear he had appropriated between his meaty fingers. His eyes glinted in the sun, scarlet and terrifying.

"Leave him alone," I had spoken before even by brain caught up with me to drag me away to the country of reason and rational thinking. Unfortunately for me, I was foreign to such a land, and knew nothing of it.

"And the underdog!" Bruno laughed again, looking me over, "Honestly didn't think you'd make it this far, midget."

Fury outranks reason by far.

"What didja just call me?!" I was charging for him before I knew even to think. Max held me back in my rage. "Say that again, I dare ya!"

"With a temper," Bruno rose both of his near nonexistent brows, "I like a girl with a temper."

He turned, as if he was going for another grab at the flag, but suddenly spun back around, hurling a rock. Just as it struck Max in the head, he charged him.

Ass the spear came down to finish the meek Max, my Bo staff spun and knocked his attack aside. We clashed several times in a furious entanglement of strikes and blows, none meeting their marks, both greeting in a harsh clang as the poles met. We were locked, and the heels of my combat boots dug into the gravel and dirt under foot as I stood my ground against this beastly demigod. I stared up into the scarlet depths of his burning eyes.

"Kill him," I growled from behind clenched teeth, "I dare you."

It was a Bo staff verses a spear. The only difference was that Bruno's spear had a sharp head, knocking off his balance to duel successfully with a Bo staff.

I blocked his blows, backing off as he advanced. My rage was overcome by fear, and my eyes widened in response to his sheer _strength_! What- does this guy take magic steroids or somethin'?

I ducked under a blow aimed for my head (probably to dislocate it), and stuck out for his knees. But the bottom half of Bruno's spear swung low and deflected my attack. I sidestepped another attack, my training imprinted in my brain from hours of swinging, ducking dodging, determined to learn the defensive tool of a ninja.

I hadn't realized this at the time, but the crowds had been chanting my name as I faced off with the brute.

"Lindsey Jones! Lindsey Jones! Lindsey Jones!"

Bruno overcame me before a minute had passed by, sweeping my legs from under me with startling strength. And without hesitation, he rose his spear to finish me.

The sky darkened. A clast of thunder peeled over the sky and with an earsplitting _BANG, _both shoes were blown off of Bruno's feet as his smoking form was thrown down the face of Leo's Folly, head over heels, heels over head.

The crowd cheered as I sat up to see Jason standing beside the flagpole, his smoking golden gladius leveled.

"You hurt Piper," he seethed from behind gritted teeth. I don't think Bruno could hear him. "Nobody hurts Piper."

I groaned and flopped back. I knew I was dirty and bloody and bruised. I knew that my finger was probably broken from one of Bruno's many blows. But I was alive. _Alive. _

I couldn't help it. All the relief, the victory and sheer pride in achieving what I have done all resulted into laughter which bubbled out from my mouth and into the summer air. I was laughing so hard I was holding my aching stomach. Wiping tears from my vision, I pulled myself to my feet, still snickering to myself.

My eyes found a pair a dirty sneakers. I lifted my gaze, and my breath came out of me.

Max held in his hands the scarlet flag. He was smiling, his cheeks flushed with joy. I smiled back.  
"Congrats, Max."

"No," he said, and I blinked as he pushed the flag into _my hands. _

The crowd erupted, putting all previous cheers to utter shame. The ground shook with thousands of adjoined voices as they chanted my name. Thousands of demigods beat the ground under their boots, clapped their hands together, and smiled their widest smiles.

All for the first Queen of the Hill, Lindsey Jones.

I laughed to myself. All this, and I hadn't even been claimed.

…

The rest of the day had been abuzz for the Queen of the Hill.

Max had been given his fair share of claps on the backs as well. Even a huntress of Artemis, albeit grudgingly, had complimented him on his arm. Max beamed shyly. Bruno had been led away buy a few armed demigods, sons of Ares and Mars, and locked him away in the basement of the Big House. The Director was discussing banishment with Chiron and Jason Grace, the last of which had a personal vendetta against the son of Mars. Piper and Nico were both in the infirmary, undergoing sturdy recovery. Nico hadn't like the place. "Too much white," he had complained.

And so here I am, in bed, at the very end of the craziest day of my life.

Kitty, I plan to write in you more often.

I feel that I'll have lots more to write about beyond today.

Love, _Lindsey_

_..._

**The next chapter we will be with Percy once again!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Bloody Snow

"_Change is necessary, but with it comes chaos."_

Artemis wasn't a fan of the hotdogs.

She stood within the meeting room within the Big House of Camp Half Blood, gazing over the dozens of Cabin Leaders sitting around the ping pong table. She wrinkled her nose in mild contempt as the Head of Cabin 15 snored right at her left, his legs kicked back upon the table, his mouth still half-full of nachos.

The only person in this meeting, excluding Artemis, who wasn't otherwise stuffing their face as a manner of speaking, was the Head of Cabin 5. Clarisse la Rue sat bolt upright, her jaw clenched as though she were struggling to hold back a biting torrent of vulgarity. She clenched her fists upon the ping pong table, and her eyes were forward.

The moon goddess couldn't blame the warrior. They had gathered to discuss the punishment for a particularly violent son of Mars. Mostly, demigods from separate camps _stayed _at their respective camps. But there were a few who switched camps, from Camp Jupiter to Camp Half Blood, and vice versa.

Brandon Clark, widely known better as 'Bruno', was one of such demigods. He had been a wild cannon before, even under the strict influence of the Roman Legions. Here, in a much more careless environment, his actions were sometimes encouraged. Of course, he had never attempted to kill another demigod until the King of the Hill.

Malcom, the newly appointed Head Counselor of Cabin 6, chewed on his hotdog, though his face was troubled. At the very end of the table was a brooding centaur, Chiron. He sat in his mechanic magical wheelchair, stroking his beard as his hand absently stirred a thin plastic spoon through his mug of coffee. Dionysus was snoring in the corner, an empty bottle of rich red wine in his hand, just about to slip from his fingers and onto the floor. Clearly, the god of wine and party and other fraternal activity was indulging in his freedom to drink whatever he liked.

"We called together this gathering of Head Counselors," Said Chiron, "to discuss the penalty of Brandon Clark, for an attempt to murder Lindsey Jones, Max Rudolf, son of Hypnos, and Nico di Angelo, son of Hades and Ghost King of the underworld." He spoke in as strictly formal manner.

"Just one thing," Amanda Heck, Head of Cabin 17, daughter of Nike, spoke up, "why is _she _here?" She directed her burning gaze over at the moon goddess, and Artemis felt a rage boiling up from her chest toward the girl.

But she couldn't blame Amanda for forgetting her place. The goddess often took mortal form, spending her time down in the mortal world more than any of her other fellow immortal. She took habit in dimming her silver aura to conceal her presence in the night whilst hunting. So, if you didn't look too carefully, if you overlooked her ethereal beauty and gleaming, very near predatory silver irises, it would be quite easy to mistake her as nor more than a mere demigod at the very least. A very scary, terrifying, demigod, who didn't give a second thought to the male lives she ruined by turning them into wombats and ferrets.

Chiron was suddenly still, much like the rest of the gathering, who were in an assortment of food halfway from mouths. Artemis offered Amanda an innocent smile. She'll play this girl's game. Then kill her.

"What do you mean by that?"

Amanda set down her hotdog and crossed her arms, sticking her nose upwards. "Last year, you converted my boyfriend into a gerbil."

"You're welcome to thank me after the procedures of this gathering," Artemis stated without a hint of remorse.

It looked as though Amanda was about to attack the goddess, sheer stupidity. However, Malcom cleared his throat. This young man clearly had guts, as he were willing to stand before a goddess known for despising his particular sex, and keep his wits about him. "Uh, not to drop disrespect on any of you two, Amanda and Lady Artemis," he bowed his head respectively toward the goddess, inciting the slight quirk of a single slender eyebrow from Artemis, "But we shouldn't follow any rabbit trails today. The matter we're discussing is serious."

Amanda huffed and looked away. Artemis said nothing.

Chiron cleared his throat. "Are there any here in this gathering that would proclaim Brandon Clark guiltless for his actions?"

After a moment of chewing silence, Piper Mclean, Head Counselor of Cabin 10, cupped her chin in thought. "Well, are were sure that his, um, _actions _aren't under the influence of his gift? The Gift of Ares?"

All heads turned toward Ava Dravison, Head Counselor of Cabin 20. An exceptionally powerful demigoddess, she is widely respected by other campers as an expert of any things magic-related. This circumstance was no exclusion.

"Well," she twirled her finger around a lock of hair dyed green, her mismatched eyes thoughtful, "His magic is hereditary, as is Piper's and Jason's. Do they know what they're doing when the power is in effect?" Both demigods opened their mouths to answer. However, Ava beat her to it. "No. At least, not at first. Piper, you weren't aware of your charmspeaking until you were told you had it, right? Well, I reckon you inadvertently used your charmspeak beforehand to convince people into doing things. Confused you, right?"

Piper conceded with a nod.

"Um, does any of you know of Bruno's persona post-berserk effects?" She looked around her audience, tapping a long, green-painted fingernail on the table's top, "Was he addled? Confused? Weak?"

Clarisse shook her head. "He was proud," she said, "I wanna saw off his legs and make him eat them. Then screw him with my spear."

"Hmph," Jason muttered, "sick son of a-."

"Are we agreed that he is, in absolute, guilty for his actions?" Chiron prompted patiently.

Everybody nodded.

"But wait," Altan Brew, son of Tyche and Head Counselor of Cabin 19, spoke up. "what if he was… you know, paid?"

This silence that ensued was tense.

"Are you saying that we have traitors amongst us, Mister Brew?" Chiron said, choosing his words very carefully. The boy nodded and gulped. "Yeah."

Clarisse shot to her feet. "Bullcrap!" She bit, "This is totally Bruno! I suspected he would go too far one day!"

"Oh, please," the Head Counselor of Cabin 4 rolled her eyes, "You're just jelly 'cause he surpassed your battle skills."

"When do _you_ have the right to stick your nose into my business, Gardner?" Clarisse turned on the demigod, "Of course this is personal! He was –," she faulted, "he was my man. He was under _my roof_, I should've brought my concerns to Chiron or Mr. D over there," she jabbed a thumb at the snoring god. "Thing is, how could this be any sort of assassination attempt? What's so important about Rudolf or that unclaimed new girl? Di Angelo, I can understand. But the underdog and her sick friend?" She snorted, "If he went after Nico and no one else, I'd be on-board with you, Gardner. But he neglected to follow through with finishing him off, and went after Rudolf. This was personal, plain as day."

Artemis had to mentally agree with the daughter of the war god. She felt a twinge of sympathy for Clarisse. They were both leaders, she couldn't imagine what she must be going through, the burden of responsibility weighing over her shoulders.

"But what would a guy like Bruno have against Max?" Jason had set down his hotdog, obviously at a loss of appetite. "They're polar opposites. I didn't know Bruno _knew _Max."

"The only other explanation," Ava Dravison rose a finger, "Would be madness. Total insanity from the start of his powers. He wasn't thinking rationally. Just wanted to kill everything in his path."

A few heads bobbed in agreement.

"My lady Artemis," Chiron inquired, "what is it that you suggest we do?"

Lady Artemis shrugged. "Kill him."

Everybody stared at her in a state of absolute horror. One kid choked on his hotdog, and Malcom pounded on his back in an effort to dislodge the food form his throat. Clarisse rolled he eyes and grabbed the boy's shoulder, pounding her fist deep into his stomach. The boy croaked, then puked.

"All you want to do is kill us!" The Head Counselor of Hephaestus cabin pounded his fist upon the table and stood abruptly, jabbing an accusing finger at the goddess.

The mutual, mental thought that maybe he had gone a _little _too far had just barely entered the demigods' heads before the boy was found sprawled atop the ping pong table, his legs and arms flailing in a mad struggle to part himself from the moon goddess' vice-like grasp.

"Count yourself honored that you are still alive, male," Artemis said, her hand gripping his collar.

"Go ahead, kill me!" The boy kicked at her. "That'll only prove me right!"

Artemis had to commend his bravery. No, stupidity. Demigods, they were always more than just mere humans. They are more loyal than mortals, braver, stronger, and more resilient. Even as mere children they could take on the horrors of this world and still yet prevail. They were poor, sodden fools.

"There will be no bloodshed in my camp," Chiron would have stood. He would have stood right up to tower above all else in the entire room. Mr. D snorted wake, mumbling something about cute river girls.

Suspense weighed upon the room with such density that each demigod and god alike could feel it, adding a tense pressure down upon their shoulders. Jason's hand had strayed toward the coin on his knee in a phantasmal gesture, an act of habit when danger such as this is present.

The boy under Artemis's grasp's teeth were clenched. The goddess would see them ground together, bits and pieces of food stuck between his teeth. He smelt like a forge and sweet, like most of his kin.

"I have never met the one who defeated Gaea," she said at last. The child blinked his large, fiery-brown eyes. "He was your brother, was he not?" She had never met the boy, but she hears stories, wisps of tales. He had tamed a renegade metal dragon in their woods, and named his Happy. He was a boy who always smiled, no matter what he faced down the corridor of Hell.

Artemis hated men. She hated what they did to women. In the past, she had looked down upon the land and saw how girls, how women were treated. They didn't have rights, their sole purpose were to breed princes of houses, to make more men and just maybe another female. They were housewives, who sometimes hadn't the right to speak. They were slaves within their own land, under their very own roofs.

Men were vile creatures were destroyed and subjected and enslaves and abused and killed. They raped, they pillaged, they drank with greed and envy, and they toasted the king of the skies with jealousy and lust. They slid their knives into the backs of just and purity. They. Are. Evil.

But is it possible, that just maybe, _maybe, _things have changed?

Artemis has been fooled before. She let her down guard just once, once. But that resulted in the loss of dignity from one of her very own maidens, who were under here protection. She trusted that damned man. How could she have second thoughts now?

This boy. Artemis lifted her head and her eyes turned to every male in the room. Of course, their gazes wavered with wariness from her, sure the breath left them in their fear. She possibly even heard the faint hiss of someone's bodily fluids taking a quick exit. But not one of them stood down, not one of them would allow her to kill the boy in her grasp. Because he was family. This conflict alone was killing each and every one of them, because Bruno, no matter what he had done, was their blood in one way or another. And demigods have an iron-clad belief against the shedding of blood of their own kind. These are mortals. Sentimental, sniveling, fearful, _loving _mortals.

"Lady Artemis," the Son of Jupiter spoke at last, "I respectfully request that you excuse Smith. He has a mouth as molten as the swords he crafts."

"_What?!" _Smith demanded with such abrupt rage that it very nearly startled the goddess.

"Not to mention his temper." Jason smiled calmly. But Artemis was no fool. She could see the glint of cold focus from behind the lenses of his glasses. In fact, it practically glinted in said lenses. His hand was covering the coin upon the ping pong table entirely.

She did not fear this male. And she could very well kill the hot-tempered boy under her. But she had to think of the consequences. How would Hephaestus respond? With a curse, much likely. Artemis could not afford that.

"Hey! Lemme through!" A girl's voice shattered the intensity. It came from the other side of the door. The demigods posted there to keep anybody else from ease-dropping and/or entering were probably at work. The struggle was heard from the next room, where the meeting was being held.

"Cmon, I have a right as anybody else in there! I'm a victim! I'm important!"

"Sorry, shorts. We can't just let you-."

A prominent _bonking _sound was heard.

"WHAT THE HADES DID YOU JUST CALL ME?"

The scuffling became more invigorated. The door shook with a body possibly slamming against it.

"Hey, calm down!" A boy's voice was heard, "I-I just-."

"Want me to kick your arse too? Step aside,_ beanpole._"

Artemis could feel the traces of amusement curse the edges of her mouth as the door swung open, giving view of two demigod males sitting back-to-back on the deck floor, drooling and heads rotating. One could practically see the cartoon birdies orbit around their addled skulls. And a very short girl stood there, dressed in jeans and an orange camp T-shirt. A gleaming choker clung to her throat, and despite her vertical distress, she seemed to tower above all in her trembling rage.

Artemis liked her.

Lindsey Jones took in the scene before her. The demigods all reaching for their weapons, the goddess holding a boy by his collar with murder in her eyes, and a centaur in a wheelchair peacefully sipping his steaming coffee.

"Looks like I arrived just in time," she smirked and swept further into the room, plopping down in the only vacant seat, "Fortunately for you all, I have awesome diplomatic skills."

The goddess released Smith and slid off the ping pong table, standing once again.

Lindsey rose her brows, "Already? I haven't said anything yet?"

"No need," Artemis said. She turned to Chiron, and though she needn't do so, bowed her head apologetically. "I am sorry for the problems I have caused you. After this meeting, I'd like to have a discussion with you on the progress of your second demigod's quest for my chariot. Then I shall withdraw with my Hunt."

"Wow," Lindsey said in the following speechlessness, "I'm better at this than I thought."

Chiron bowed his head in return. "I look forward to it. The discussion, I mean."

_Father has always accused me of acting too mortal, _mused Artemis with grudging amusement as she left the demigods to justly agree upon a penalty for this murderous son of Mars.

_Maybe, after all this time, I should start seeing it as a compliment. _

…

"_Eri il mio soldatino. Ora un principe oscuro. Ma anche per te, c'e una luce. Che ad un'altra vita ti conduce." _

Nico was not happy.

The sheer whiteness of the infirmary was bad enough, but the infirmary itself just brought memories. Not necessarily bad memories, despite the pain in their wake.

A smiling, sunny face, only cloudy when concerned. Soft, golden hair between his fingers. A hot trail where lips met his skin, burning like the sun. Nico craved it, and hated it. Like he once craved Percy, and hated Percy just the same. He was right back to the home base, will he always be treading this cycle? Will it ever end?

_Useless questions, _Nico gripped the maddening white sheets of his bed with his fists, _stop asking such useless questions. _

"Ah come _on _di Angelo," a voice drove a spear through his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to behold the sight of an Apollo kid standing over him with a scowl across his face. "Don't tell me being the kid of the god of the Underworld has made you think that you are impervious to death?"

_Bianca._

"Eh, get lost blondie," Nico tried to sit up, but dizziness abruptly overwhelmed his senses, and once it had passed, he was staring up at the abusively white ceiling, on his back.

The dude scoffed, crossing his arms. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Nico answered with a moaned cuss.

"I'm Theo Brynne, and I guess I'll be your caretaker until your skull knits itself back together."

"History just repeating itself, I see." He did not mean to say as such aloud.

Theo cracked a grin, "Oh yeah, didn't Will Solace tend to you after the War? You guys were dating soon after that. Mind telling me what happened?"

The Ghost King must have spotted some type of wicked phantasm on the ceiling, so fixatedly did he stare. Theo 'hmphed' and reached over toward hell's prince to apply pressure upon the bandages wrapped about his skull. Wordlessly, Nico's hand flew up to grip Theo by the wrist.

"Don't." He said. It was not a request.

"Jeez," Theo muttered once Nico released him, "can't be _that _ugly. First that Jones girl, then you."

Then he punched him.

Nico flopped back on the pillow, his jaw throbbing. Hesitating, he reached up to brush the sore spot with his fingertips.

"Get over yourself, di Angelo," Theo crossed his arms. Other Apollo medics had frozen to anxiously observe the spectacle, pausing in their efforts to heal the sick or wounded. "Everybody bleeds. Everybody. I know that for a fact," Theo continued, lifting Nico's speechless head to unwrap his bandages. "Even gods bleed. You may be one of the most powerful demigods alive, di Angelo, but you _bleed. _Don't feel hollow shame in it." Staring almost vacantly, Nico felt the slight, comfortable pressure return around his skull. "And if you can help it," Theo said, "do all that you can to keep others from bleeding. Struggle, damn it. But not against us."

"Awfully dramatic, Brynne." The voice was amused. It was female.

Nico didn't bother to see, but he could practically feel the warmth of Theo's radiant blush. The boy cleared his throat.

"You think it was necessary to _punch _him?" The girl's voice continued.

Activity around the infirmary continued. A moan was heard, probably coming from someone with a severe tummy ache. The faint clattering of delicate tools the wafts of medicine was almost soothing.

"Ava," Theo almost breathed, "um, Ava." He corrected the way he said her name, his face glowing like dawn. "What brings you to the infirmary? The meeting's done? What-."

"Chatter-y as always," amusement laced his words. It was growing louder – no, closer.

Theo just swallowed and chuckled. It was remarkable how such a stubborn, obstinate, roughly-caring steel-head could turn into a warm blog of pudding in mere seconds. It just takes to right person.

"Afraid to say that your medical duties to Nico di Angelo has already come to an end," Ava said, "You two can say your heartfelt and teary goodbyes. But make it quick."

"When my head is fixed," Nico growled from behind his teeth, "There is no where on earth you can hide."

"I look forward to it." Theo tossed Nico a half-hearted wave as he stepped from Nico's bedside.

Ava replaced Theo, smirking to herself. She was an attractive girl, her hair long and black, with green-dyed outlines. Adding that to her mismatched eyes – left lime-green while the other was startling white-cloud grey – and her long green fingernails, she greatly resembled a witch of some sort.

"Have you been wondering why your Ambrosia hasn't been working?" Ava inquired.

Nico shook his head. "Was clear that some warlock cursed me a while back."

"Thought so," Ava chewed at her elongated thumbnail in thought, "I can smell the curse from outside the infirmary."

"Why are you helping me?"

Ava laughed. "You're pretty cute for a dark lord," she uncrossed his arms and produced out of thin air a blue, sparkling potion, supposedly for lifting his curse. "Because you have a request. And please do drink this. It took me _ages _to whip it up."

Nico reached out a hand to accept it, and he was in the process of thanking her when she suddenly grasped the collar of his loose, white shirt, bringing him up toward her and leaning down simultaneously to press a kiss to his cheek. Nico's steely resolve crumbled.

Ava laughed once more and pressed the potion to his calm. "Think about it, Nico di Angelo. After taking up quite the hammering from that Bruno fella, after fighting your way to the top of that big hill, after fighting and fighting and fighting your way through _two wars, _were you ever once defeated?"

Nico said nothing. He did not blush, no. He just stared, his thin lips parted, the dark jewels of his eyes a fraction wider than normal. He felt her hand holding his wrist, gently and yet almost firmly pressing it to his lap, while the other tenderly pinched his chin between her forefinger and thumb. He hadn't realized it, but his hand had risen to strike her once he felt the breach of personal space. A habit of spending his nights in the woods as a lonesome 12 year-old: strike at whatever is alien to you.

"And to think," The daughter of Hecate withdrew, releasing him with amusement, "that simply the kiss of a woman was all it took to render you defenseless."

And she was gone.

The Ghost King's scowl crept across his porcelain features.

"Gods-forsaken witch."

…

"_He was grim."_

Lindsey sat, arms folded under her chin to cushion her position of slumping over the ping pong table. The meeting had half an hour ago, with the mutual decision that Bruno will be facing exile from Camp Half Blood. A son of Hermes had volunteered to take the message of the son of Mars' actions to Camp Jupiter, should they ever accept him back into their ranks. Lindsey suspected there was a girl on his mind. There was always a girl in-mind. Or guy. Whatever his type.

"You look troubled, Ms. Jones," Chiron wheelchaired into the room. As did he.

"So do you," Lindsey muttered, poking around a small, lopsided ping pong ball, "Mister Chiron."

The faint humming of his mechanical wheelchair gradually approached until Chiron was but a few feet away. He stooped to lift a crumpled piece of paper meant for wrapping a hotdog, muttering something about 'trashy kids'.

"You think he'll be back?" Lindsey suddenly assaulted Chiron with the inquiry, sitting up.

"Who?"

"Bruno."

"He hasn't left yet, Ms. Jones."

"After he's banished. You think he'll be back?"

"Oh, definitely."

Lindsey blinked and pushed the chair back to stand. "Are you serious?"

Chiron stroked his bushy chin, his eye sparkling. "A boy like that is never satisfied. He'll be back. I'll probably be the only one to sympathize his mistake once he does."

"What do you mean?"

"He tried to kill three demigods, Ms. Jones," the centaur smiled knowingly, "and demigods don't like demigods who kill demigods. There are over 200 of them in this camp. I find it safe to say that I like our odds."

These words provoked a smile to claim Lindsey's features, but it soon faded. "I want to see him."

The Jaguar head on the wall yawned.

"WHAT-,"

"See him?" Chiron interlude her panic, narrowing his eyes. "Why would you ever want to see the demigod who threw you down a massive hill, tried to kill your friend, and succeeded in cracking your partner's skull?"

Lindsey sighed, locking her gaze on the floor. "Because," her fists clenched. It felt a bit safer to say this to a man like Chiron. "Because I'm afraid of him." She said. "And when he leaves, I don't want to be afraid anymore. I need to see him, so I can know that there's nothing he can do."

The centaur leaned back against his chair and softly alighted his hands upon the rests. Of course. Even after all she has been through, she is still a girl adjusting. Adapting. She is still a human being, no matter the percentage of mortal DNA she contained. This demigod had threatened her life, and it scares her that he is here, beneath this very floor.

"You may," He said at last.

_Honestly, fourteen simple steps shouldn't take fourteen years to descend, _thought Lindsey, each step mustering dust into the air around her combat boots. The lamps overhead were faint and flickering, as though Mr. D had forgotten to pay the electricity bill. Again.

The door at the end was tall and made of iron, weirdly enough. Had they planned beforehand for the basement to be miniature prison? Lucky they had. _They, _meaning Hephaestus campers.

The lighting was dim, but Lindsey wasn't. Before entering the room, she reached up to wrap her fingers around the handled, and with which she dragged the panel horizontally to give her a view into the room beyond bore she entered.

She couldn't see. It was too dark. The lights within weren't on. Lindsey cursed softly to herself. She was told that he had been bound to a chair, so would it be safe to enter and turn the lights on?

"What kind of idiot would put the lights on the inside?" Lindsey muttered. "Oi! Tough guy! You still, eh, tough? In there? All alone? Need a teddy?"

No answer. _Don't think he wants a teddy. _

"Poor Bruno," Lindsey chuckled to herself as she lifted the lock and tentatively pushed the door inward. She stepped into the still air of the basement floor, and blindly traced her hand over the wall at her right until she found a switch, which she switched. With a click, the lights flipped on. It spotlighted down upon the chair, leaving the rest of the room in total darkness.

"Ay, is it evening or morning?" Bruno's voice chortled. Lindsey's eyes widened, her boots were rooted to the floor. "I've got to say, I'm glad you're new. Nobody makes rookie mistakes, other than an _idiotic rookie._"

The chair was empty. The tethers lay in coils upon the concrete floor. _He wasn't there. _

Lindsey was no soldier. Sure, she had been trained by the finest, but their methods hasn't yet drilled themselves permanently in her head. She was _no soldier. _She doesn't check her corners, she doesn't listen for the click of weaponry while alone in a corridor, she doesn't listen for footfalls _directly _behind you.

Bruno's hand came from the shadows, all large and muscle-y like from some nightmare, and grabbed her by the arm. Lindsey tried to scream as she was torn off-balance and against the large demigod, but his meaty hand clamped over her mouth.

"Now now," Bruno's breath was hot against her ear, "the fun is just about to begin."

Lindsey's mouth was already open, so all she had to do was bite down. Hard. Really hard. She tasted blood, and the next thing she knew was being thrown against a wall. Air fled, and furthermore did she gasp when a large fist pounded into her stomach, then her side. Bones cracked, and the pain came like lightning flashing. Abrupt and overwhelming.

All Lindsey could think about was the farm, four years back.

_They bred sheep, mainly for wool, so to sell it for fair value. This wasn't the foundation of their income, however. But a little extra income never hurt. _

_Winters were harsh. But this one, a decade in her life, Lindsey had never witnessed a snowstorm such as this. Within a few days, they found they their doors would soon be entirely covered, so Mr. Jones and his sister toiled hard to clear the snow around the entrances of their home, and after that, they carved paths to the animals so to tend them while the snow calmed. But driving to the grocery store was no option. The plows never came so far out into the country. _

_Of course, Mr. Jones was no idiot. He restocked best he could before the snow came down. However, just after Lindsey fell with an illness (and a severe migraine, the likes of which had riddled her childhood), snow came down once again, extending the melting-date far to the end of winter. _

_Within a month, they had no choice. They had to slaughter a sheep for food. Vividly, Lindsey recalled the look in her father's eyes as he hefted the ax over his shoulder and stared down at her as she lay on the couch. He was grim. Lindsey never forgot how she flinched as the cries of the lamb was cut short, never permitted to continue living. When her father returned, there was the shine was tears behind his eyes, and he retreated to his room without a word. Her aunt cooked the lamb. _

_And so they ate._

_All besides her father._

Lindsey was curled against the floor in the fetal positon as Bruno stood over her, kicking at her with merciless malice. After one last kick, Bruno stopped. He frowned down at the unclaimed demigoddess, his scarlet eyes gleaming.

"Eh, no fun. Not even a scream." He prodded her still body with his boot. "Don't die yet, midget. I haven't gotten the chance to tell you my awesome secret yet."

The girl was still for seconds long passed, but, with her body shaking, she lifted her head, her jaw compressed fiercely. Blood dripped from her chin. "What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me?"

Bruno's eyes widened. "Aha!" He laughed, "hahaha, ahahah, _ahahahah!_" He threw another kick at her side, and it connected solidly.

"Ya see, my name isn't actually Bruno," he paused, still smiling, "Or Brandon."

"What… what the… what the Hades are you?"

Chuckling, Bruno – or whoever he was – stooped and grasped her hair in his vice-like fists, lifting her up. "My name is Orgi." He whispered, his smiling burning a grotesque portrait to burn everlastingly in Lindsey's mind.

This murderous demigod needn't offer a translation, for the Greek dialect was an instinct to the girl. _Wrath. _

"And you, Lindsey Jones," Spat Orgi, spat _Wrath, _"you made me very, _very _angry!"

As his fist came down to finish her life, to snap her neck with its velocity, something happened. Something… primal rose from within Lindsey. She could feel it, as the fist came ever closer. Soon it was howling, this presence.

Howling with rage.

The sapphire jewel of Lindsey's choker glinted.

A blast of wind, so ferocious it threw Orgi from her in its might, saved her. He soared across the basement room and came crashing down upon the wooden chair that had once imprisoned him. It gave away beneath his sudden weight, and it crumbled under him. Lindsey was standing. She didn't understand it, but she was _standing_.

_What… what is happening? _Lindsey ruminated vacantly. She lifted her hand toward the murderous demigod. _I… I feel… cold. _

Bruno, or Orgi, leapt to his feet in an enraged snarl, and he charged her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her to the ground.

"What was that, eh?!" He demanded, "Who are you?!"

Lindsey, desperation mounting, clawed at his face, at his eyes, at his arms. Her skin had just dropped a few shades, her skin was white as the snow that had fallen all those years back. The views of her arm were burning an angry blue color through her skin, the light churning upwards toward her hands. A tingling sensation was running up her arms, traveling faster as Orgi's fingers tightened around her throat, squeezing away her life. All Lindsey could see was a veil was red, like blood.

It was snowing. A flurry roared around the two, and as Orgi lifted his head in shock, exposing his neck, he felt something cold slide into it. Throat his neck and out the other side. The demigod choked, coughing golden ichor.

He was no demigod.

His eyes, burning red, flickered down at her, this enemy who had ended his life. Lindsey's eyes were wide with mad terror, for from her hand had grown a dagger of solid ice.

"You… you… bi…"

Lindsey tucked her legs in and planted her feet against his chest, kicking him off of her. She screamed. While screaming, the demigoddess came down upon this creature, bearing this bloody dagger.

Again and again she brought down the knife upon his face, golden blood blossoming further across the concrete floor from the body. He was long dead, and yet Lindsey, her throat raspy from her screams, stabbed away.

The room was freezing over, responding vigorously to her fear. Minutes had passed when footsteps came rushing down the steps from the main floor of the Big House. Piper Mclean, accompanied by two other unrecognized demigods, froze to behold this hellish scene before them.

Bruno's body laid upon the floor, limbs sprawled, what was left of his head laying in shreds of bone and skin. Golden ichor mixed with human blood speckled the room, pooling only around the body of Bruno. Snow lay upon the floor, here and there tainted red with blood.

And Lindsey sat, her knees drawn up to her chin with her arms wrapped around her legs, in the far corner, her eyes hauntingly wide. Her body was shaking, and she looked as though she were about to reject her lunch.

Above her, spinning innocently, was a large, intricate blue snowflake. She had been claimed.

Piper's own kaleidoscope eyes widened in brinking dread as Lindsey Jones spoke the name of her mother.

"Khione."

And so the daughter of the goddess of snow lowered her head in bitter, _bitter_ shame.

…

**I know, I know. I said Percy would be in the next chapter, but seeing what I have planned for our son of Poseidon, I decided to stick with camp for the time being. **

**Initially, I wanted to extend longer. But it seems that I have a long, hard semester ahead of me. So I fear I'll only be able to post over the weekends. **

**So, anyhow, what did you think? Just lemme know through the reviews, will ya? The more reviews, and longer my chapters get. ;) **

**And don't fear, readers! Percy will show up sometime soon. **


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